Property of the USA
by Thisissecret
Summary: England has had enough of France molesting him. After voicing his complaints to America, the younger nation decides to help out, oblivious to the fact that England might not appreciate the gesture... USUK


Pairings/Characters: Established America/England, slight Prussia/Austria and France/Canada, appearances of France, China, Hungary, Poland, Germany, Italy, Japan and mentions of others.

Warnings: Shounen-ai, language, use of human and country names and France being his usual self.

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters..._

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It was with a heavy sigh that England threw himself onto the bed, arms crossed and a scowl angry enough to put South Italy to shame. America glanced up from his PSP, silently taking in his lovers fury.

"Bad day?" he asked, the pure anger radiating from the island nation enough for even _him _to catch up on. England, not seeming to have noticed the Americans presence until now, simply sighed.

"You could say that," he grumbled, recrossing his arms and hugging his chest slightly. Smirking, America paused his game and tossed it aside. He crawled across the soft surface on his hands and knees, stopping only when he was behind the other, his head resting on the smaller nations shoulder. He nuzzled it lightly, trying to get England's undivided attention.

"I know something that could cheer ya' right up," he said in a voice much to cheerful for their implications. England, however, was not in the mood.

"Please Alfred, I've had enough of these kind of things for today. Prussia broke into the world meeting and tried claim back his old parts of Poland, Italy spilled pasta sauce on all the important documents, Greece wouldn't wake up, Turkey tried to shoot him, Germany yelled, Japan kept agreeing with everyone, Russia was drunk and to top it all of, France wouldn't stop grabbing my arse!"

"... You finished?" America asked, quirking an eyebrow at the small blond.

"Yes," England muttered, shrugging of the bespecled nations head in order to hide the small flush that had begun to form across his cheeks. He quickly stripped and disposed of his clothes, resisting the urge to snap at the wolf-whistles that kept coming from America, who was still sprawled across the bed and eyeing the exposed skin with a glint in his eyes.

"Stop it, you look just like _him _when you do that," England growled with clear distaste. He paused his movements for a moment as he held up two t-shirts, silently debating which one to use.

"Take the green one, it matches your eyes," America supplied, still not giving up with his attempt to seduce the Englishman.

"I'm sleeping, no one will see me." He still opted for the green, folding the red one back and putting it back in the hotels wardrobe. He quickly dressed, aware of the blue eyes eyeing his back as he did so.

"Who did I sound like?" America asked when it became evident that he wouldn't be getting any that evening.

"France, you idiot! Who else?" he grumbled, lunging back at the double bed and pulling the covers tight around his small frame. A heavy silence followed, disrupted only by the slowing breaths of England as he began to drift off to sleep.

America studied England's form, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Did he touch you?" he asked loudly, pulling the shorter blond out of his reveille.

"Just drop it," came the delayed, sleep-hazed reply.

"Did he?" America pressed, much to England's annoyance.

"He's bloody France, what do you expect. Now if you don't mind, I need to gather strength for the rest of the meeting tomorrow."

"But Iggy–"

"_Goodnight, _Alfred." That ended the conversation.

America glanced down at England's sleeping form, a sudden plan forming in his mind. _'Don't worry, I'll make sure everyone stays away from your ass tomorrow, just like any hero would! '_

_..._

"I totally knew they were together!"

"I wonder if he even knows it's there, aru..."

"Wouldn't it be fabulous if they got married! I could like, be their bridesmaid!"

"I don't think that would work, aru..."

"Don't say such things! You'd be gorgeous! Just bring Lithuania along with you. I'll even take your picture!"

"You'd do that for me?"

"I still think we should tell him about it, aru!"

"Shh, shh, he's coming!"

England quirked a large eyebrow at the small group consisting of Poland, China and Hungary. He had been receiving snickers and strange looks all morning. At first, it had been easy enough to ignore, but after several hours of snickering and strange comments, it was beginning to scare him.

"Is something wrong?" England inquired smoothly, catching the attention of the unlikely trio.

"No, no, we were just discussing, um, weather Prussia or Austria would top. From experience, I can tell you that Austria is rather aggressive, but China is positive Prussia stays aggressive all the way. Poland., on the other hand, thinks Prussia has a submissive side–"

"And that's more then enough information I needed," England muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes in an attempt to force away the mental images that flooded his mind. Oh god, he'd need bleach... Suddenly realising what he was doing, he snapped his eyes open. "Sorry about that. I'll, uh, be off then... see you later." He turned quickly, leaving the group and trying not to wince as they started laughing once his back was turned. He was so caught up in his musings that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and found himself slamming into someone. He was unable to catch himself and landed, with an undignified yelp, on another body.

"Ouff!"

"Ve~!"

The mass of limbs beneath him began to struggle and England glanced down, only to find an auburn-haired Italian sprawled beneath himself. Said Italian seemed to notice his predicament and began to utter noises of distress.

"Waa! Doitsu! Help me! I'm being invaded by England! Waa, please don't hurt me, I'll do anything! I'll tell you all our countries secrets and I could even cook your pasta so you don't accidentally kill yourself..."

The Englishman was to baffled to do anything about the Northerners outburst and simply settled with rolling off the other, leaving him on his back next to the sobbing man. Unfortunately for him, it was at this moment that Germany made his appearance, ready to rescue his little friend. He glanced down at the scene before him, taking in the state of the two nations. His eyes narrowed at England. Slowly, as if not to startle the intimidating blond, England rose from the floor and turned his back on the German to offer a hand to the Italy.

"Waa! Don't kill me!"

Bad idea. With a sigh, he turned back to Germany, whose cheeks fore some reason had grown a very interesting shade of red. England rose his eyebrows questioningly, but found that the German wouldn't meet his eyes. _'Huh, strange.'_

"Pardon me for disrupting the peace," he offered weakly, but received no reply. England decided to ignore this and simply stalked off to find a place where he could lobby with a country that wasn't acting so awkward. He caught sight of a fleck of black and white and felt his mouth quirk up into a small smile.

"Japan," he greeted pleasantly.

"Good day, England-San," the slightly timid man replied, bowing shortly. "How are you today?"

England found himself smiling again, glad that a bit of normality was being restored in this seemingly warped world. "Just fine, though there's been a lot of people acting–"

"Keseseses! I knew it! I knew he'd never top, he's just to grouchy to bother! Hand it over, Specs!"

England felt his eye twitch in annoyance. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever would happen once he faced the Prussian and turned just in time to see Austria pass the albino a small bunch of money.

"Can I help you?" He asked, deciding to ignore the exchange to the best of his ability.

"No need, you've just earned me – Ouff!" Prussia was cut of by an elbow in the stomach.

"_Ignore _him," Austria instructed. "That's what I do. As for your question: no, we will not require your assistance with anything. As it happens, I have business to attend to." The aristocrat nodded curtly and strode of, leaving a complaining Prussia to chase after him and a stunned England. Blinking, he slowly turned back to Japan. He needed a moment to regain his composure and pretended so smooth out creases on his perfectly ironed shirt before plastering the smile back onto his face.

"Now where was I – Is something wrong?" He quickly switched to concern as he noted the red tinge to others usually pale cheeks. "Are you feeling feverish?"

"Ah, I, uh, need to go. It was nice meeting you, England-San. See you around."

And within seconds, he was alone. Again.

"Why does every bloody nation start acting weird as soon I turn my back on them?" he muttered to himself, stalking of to the corner of the room. He had given up on establishing new contacts, to put-out to even consider attempting a civil conversation with anyone. For the second time that morning, England stopped paying attention to where he was going and before he knew it, he had slammed into _another _person, this one tall enough to remain standing.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, not looking up to meet the eye of whoever he had ran over and turned, ready to walk away in the opposite direction, but was stopped by a firm hand on his left wrist, successfully stopping his chances of escape.

"Ah, if it isn't _mon cheri_ _Angleterre! _How are you this fine day?"

England froze at the familiar, smooth voice. "Bloody hell, is God out to get me today? Why can't I run into someone _nice?_" He grumbled to no one specific, cursing his never-ending bad luck.

"You wound me!" France cried in a to-load voice, clutching his chest in mock-hurt. "Why is it that the love of my life continues to wound me so?" Tears began to well in the Frenchman eyes, drawing the attention of whoever wasn't already staring at him and making England role his eyes in response.

"France, I am not in the mood for dealing with you at the moment and if you don't shut up I'll tell America your shagging M – uh..."

"_Matthieu_ ?" France supplied helpfully.

"His _brother,_" England snapped, glaring at the taller man.

"Like you are with America?" A predatory smirk found its way across France's face and a gleam that could put the strongest man on edge twinkled in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he huffed. "I have no idea what you're talking about! Alf–_America _is an insufferable git who I like to stay clear of!" '_How can he know? We haven't told anyone yet!'_

"Whatever you say, dear. I hope your not-fuckbuddy-slash-boyfriend won't mind me complementing your lovely–"

"Mention my arse," England growled. "And I _will _maim you. Slowly."

France winced, but nodded, smile still in place. "Of course. If that is all, I shall take my leave now. _Adieu _my friend!"

"Frog," England huffed to himself, stepping aside to allow the other access. He was sure he could feel the others eyes lingering on his back for a while, but them remembered who he was thinking about and that there was nothing to be done about it. Exhaling slowly, the island nation finally found himself seated at the far corner of the room, massaging his aching temples. Something was definitely going on and it involved him, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. As he shifted slightly in his seat, he heard something rustle. Confused, he rose from his seat and looked it over, but found nothing. He sat back down again and the rustling was back, along with the uncomfortable sensation of something poking through his slacks. Quickly glancing around the room to make sure no one was looking at him, his pale hand found its way to the back of his trousers, trailing about until they came in contact with what felt like a piece of paper. With a swift tug, he pulled it of and brought it into view in order to examine it. "What the ..."

It was a small post-it note, which had obviously been in place for quite some time if the state of the thing was anything to go by. But it wasn't the note itself that surprised the man, nor the fact that it had stayed in place for almost half a day. No, it was the message, scrawled across the paper that caught his attention.

"ALFRED! When I get hold of you I _will _kill you!" He roared, catching the attention of every nation in the room. Giving it a quick scan, he soon caught sight of his former colony, who was now looking distinctly uneasy.

"I can explain," he insisted, lifting his hands as if to defend himself. "This way, no one would give you trouble." He didn't have time to say anything else, as England had had enough and lunged at him with a murderous expression on his face. America meeped, fleeing the scene, with a swearing England on his heels. Without him realising it, the post-it fell from England's grasped and rolled across the floor, landing innocently on the floor. The text was scrunched up, but still clearly visible.

_This area has been seized and is now the property of the United states of America. Trespassers will be shot without questioning._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

_..._

A/N: I have no idea from where this came from, but I can see America trying something along these lines to keep England to himself...

Thanks for reading^^


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